


He Had It Comin'

by zeldafire



Series: Love (And All That Jazz) [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Chirping, Drag Queens, Feelings, First Kiss, Getting Together, Humor, Jokes, Light Angst, M/M, but do not do the hula, student drag show, they dress in drag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 22:25:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11344323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldafire/pseuds/zeldafire
Summary: Ransom and Holster decide the SMH team should participate in the student drag show.  Dex isn't so sure about the whole idea.  And then there's Nursey...-----Their captains looked at them, excited and expectant. Dex was honestly still trying to process the phrase “group drag number” when Bitty started giggling uncontrollably.“Oh, oh dear. Just think of us all in drag! Ya’ll’re going to be the tallest women anyone’s ever seen.”“That’s the spirit, Bitty!” Ransom threw his hand out for a fist bump and Bitty obliged, still laughing behind his other hand.“Lord, what is Jack going to think when I tell him?”“Jack! We have to invite Jack.”“And Shits,” Holster chimed in. “Shitty’s gonna love this.”





	He Had It Comin'

**Author's Note:**

> This monster is finally I done. Holy cow, you have _no idea_ what this damn story has done to me. I got the idea November 2016 and, as my brain is a huge troll, have been struggling to write it ever since. I am so excited to share it with you, I love it to death and back again. I am, however, extremely glad it's done because I stopped reading Dexsey while working on it, so I have **so much** to catch up on! The coin toss! AH! Please excuse me as I hide in a corner and read everything I've missed out on for 6 months.
> 
> A billion million thank yous to my beautiful friends [cortexikid](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cortexikid/pseuds/cortexikid) and [valkyerie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyerie) for being amazing cheerleaders and betas for me. I love you both.
> 
> If you are not familiar with the musical Chicago, or at least the song Cell Block Tango, please click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qrrz54UtkCc) to enlighten yourself. It will help immensely for certain scenes.

If Ransom and Holster thought Dex was going to go along with this, they had another thing coming.

He sat at his desk and stared at the email they’d sent everyone. “End of year team building!” was the phrase they’d had the audacity to put for the subject. Dex snorted in derision as he scanned over the tentative “training” schedule his captains had hastily thrown together. There was no way calling this “training” would get him or any of the other guys that hadn’t been at the Haus last night on board with this. Dex still couldn’t quite believe Nursey and Chowder had agreed. Bitty _maybe_ , but he’d never been much of a showboat outside of making sure his pies got the attention they deserved. Then again, he could belt out off-key pop hits with the best of them when he had enough tub juice in his system. 

Dex leaned back in his chair and let his eyes sweep across his room to rest on the world outside his window. The trees were still stark against the morning sun, the weather too cold yet for much more than the crocuses he’d noticed poking through the early morning frost in the quad. They reminded him of last week’s games, of the blossoming hope and excitement their win in round one of the championship had brought, only to be quickly swallowed by the quarter final’s harsh reminder that this was a competition, a cycle of win and lose that had left the Samwell Men’s Hockey team’s prospects as barren as the branches outside until next year’s opportunity came around.

“Shit,” Dex scoffed. Thank god no one was around to hear his thoughts. The amount of chirping he’d receive for such an extended metaphor would be off the charts. And he’d deserve all of it, too. Worse, most of it would come from Nursey, all while he had that smug smile plastered on his face; the self-satisfied one with a hint of pride behind it that was more confusing than Dex had time to deal with. The one Dex swore Nursey reserved just for him.

But Derek Nurse and his poetry weren’t here to analyze his softer side. Which, really, was a good thing in his opinion. Because right now Dex didn’t need to concede that a student drag show actually sounded fun. Watching a bunch of his classmates get up on stage under the protection and guise of a different gender, the men affecting coy shyness and the women posturing as they sauntered about and lip-synced was something Dex could get behind. 

Participating in it, though? That was something he _never_ would have considered.

In principle, he wasn’t against performing. Dex just never considered himself good at it unless he was on the ice. He also couldn’t think of anyone who’d want to watch him do anything other than smash players against the boards or sink a puck when he had the chance. 

Really, the biggest problem was that the whole ordeal had taken him completely off-guard. Yesterday, when Dex had walked into the Haus after his last class, expecting to flop down on the couch and get some homework done before Chowder got back and they had their usual Friday night Mario Kart throwdown, he’d been in his element. Things cool and calm and under control. 

He hadn’t even batted an eye when Ransom and Holster had come barreling through the front door, a mess of limbs and shouting loud enough to wake the dead. Their normal antics had long-since ceased to surprise him, and, as it was, Dex expected more than a small amount of commotion at the Haus on a Friday night. Noise, he could deal with. 

Ransom rolling into the living room, slamming his textbook closed, and landing on Dex in one fell move Holster deemed “smooth” before joining them on the too-small couch was another thing altogether.

Dex’s eye twitched. “That’s okay, I wasn’t doing anything with that.”

“What?” Holster asked, his voice jumping a few octaves.

“Exactly,” Dex replied as he pulled himself out of the squirming pile of hockey players.

“Good lord, what is going on in here?” Bitty asked as he emerged from the kitchen.

Dex shifted on his perch on the arm of the couch and shrugged, then turned back to watch his captains figure out which way was up.

“This!” Ransom exclaimed, his hand suddenly shooting out of the fray and dangling a crumpled piece of paper over the back cushions. Bitty moved forward and took the paper, his brow arching as he perused its contents. Dex leaned over, curious, as they ignored whatever wrestling match Ransom and Holster were now wrapped up in.

“‘The Samwell Gay Straight Alliance Presents the First Annual Student Drag Show,’” Bitty read aloud, then tsked. “What are these boys thinking now? ‘Join us for a night of performances put on by your fellow Wellies. Hosted by Boston’s own Deedee Diamond and Buxom Cummins.’” Bitty let out a little gasp. “Buxom Cummins?! She’s _so fierce_.” 

Dex side-eyed Bitty, unsure of how he knew the local drag scene, but didn’t really put it past him. He’d been roped into watching episodes of _RuPaul's Drag Race_ before by none other than Bitty and a rather vociferous Holster on a number of occasions now.

“April sixteenth at eight o’clock, huh?” Bitty continued.

“So there’s a drag show in two weeks,” Dex summed up after a moment of silence.

“Yes!” Ransom said, suddenly beside them. “And look,” he whispered earnestly, pointing to another date on the flyer. “Sign-ups end on the eighth. We’ve only got a week!”

“A week for what?” Dex asked warily.

“To pick a song and get our names on that list,” Holster explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Y’all wanna be in the drag show?”

“We want the _team_ to be in the drag show.”

“What?!”

“Don’t sound so offended, Dex.” Holster looked at him from his spot draped across the back of the couch. “We’d all be in it together.”

“Oh!” Ransom cried. “That’s a good one! High School Musical.”

“Write that down, Rans,” Holster ordered. Ransom whipped his phone from his back pocket and began typing.

“A group drag number?” Bitty continued, sounding more interested by the moment.

“Yeah. Rans and I think it’ll be both good team building and—”

“Fun. Good for morale after last week’s loss—”

“Since we’re out for the season, we’ve got time—”

“One last hurrah before Holtzy and I are gone—”

“Leaving a stronger team for next year—”

“Bonded by brotherhood—” 

“And drag.”

Their captains looked at them, excited and expectant. Dex was honestly still trying to process the phrase “group drag number” when Bitty started giggling uncontrollably. 

“Oh, oh dear. Just think of us all in drag! Ya’ll’re going to be the tallest women anyone’s ever seen.”

“That’s the spirit, Bitty!” Ransom threw his hand out for a fist bump and Bitty obliged, still laughing behind his other hand.

“Lord, what is Jack going to think when I tell him?”

“Jack! We _have_ to invite Jack.”

“And Shits,” Holster chimed in. “Shitty’s gonna _love_ this.”

They continued to babble as Dex sat on the arm of the couch, chin resting in the hand he’d propped up on his knees. He watched on as his friends started tossing around suggestions for songs, where they could get costumes, and who they could ask to do their makeup, feeling completely separate from the excitement going on right in front of him. Still, he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. 

They were all insane, every single one of them. But he loved them for it all the same.

Dex might have even gone along with it, might have acquiesced after a few minutes of pleading from Ransom, a litany of hard-lipped arguments from Holster, and Bitty’s promises of golden raspberry mini-pies as soon as they were in season. 

Really, the whole thing wasn’t such a big deal if Dex thought about it. If it was an ensemble number, he could just blend into the background, lend his support, have a little fun—weird fun, but fun nonetheless—and help end his captains’ last year at Samwell on a high note. After all, he’d chosen Samwell because he could do things like this here, get away with it and not have to feel self-conscious about himself. Obviously a drag show was something the student body was supportive of, and moreover was willing to participate in. There was no reason he should deny himself the experience, no matter how embarrassing it might end up being. He could get over it, work his way through whatever walls his mind wanted to erect and hide behind. Turn himself into the more rounded and open person he’d realized his senior year of high school he really wanted to be.

But then Nursey walked in the door.

“Chowder! Nursey!” Holster called as the pair entered the Haus. “Get in here, bros!”

“Hey Holster. We having a meeting or something?” Nursey asked as he jumped over the back of the couch, joining the loose huddle that had formed on and around the green monstrosity. His shoulder bumped Dex’s shin where he still sat on the arm.

“Naw, man. Just planning our last great hurrah as a team.”

“Okay, you really need to stop saying ‘hurrah’,” Dex said, annoyed.

“Oh! I don’t remember doing anything special last year,” Chowder said, a puzzled tilt to his brow as he settled in on the floor at Nursey’s feet.

“That’s because we didn’t,” Ransom explained with a quick glance up from his phone. “New this year. Holtzy and I are leaving a legacy.”

“I think you’ve already managed that, drag show or no,” Dex interjected.

“Hell yeah we have.” Ransom held up his fist for a bump, still preoccupied by the costume website he’d found. Holster met him mid-air without even looking.

“‘Swawesome.”

“Drag show?” Nursey inquired as he turned his attention toward Dex. Why Nursey thought he would know more about this than the evil masterminds camped out on the floor was beyond him, but Nursey liked to ask a lot of offbeat questions—mostly just to get a rise out of him as far as Dex could figure—so Dex nudged him with his foot and frowned.

“Like I’m supposed to know.”

“I dunno, man,” Nursey smirked back, his elbow knocking Dex’s leg. “You’ve been here for a while. I’m sure you know what’s going on.”

Dex looked down and locked eyes with Nursey, knowing a challenge when he heard one. Except Nursey just stared back at him, eyes easy and sparkling with honest curiosity. Dex turned away before his mind started playing with ideas of what any of that could mean, and noticed that Chowder was looking up at him as well.

“There’s gonna be a drag show?” 

Dex couldn’t help but smile at the open expression on Chowder’s face. The kid never ceased to amaze him; vicious between the pipes yet so genuine in everything else. “Yeah, C. In a few weeks. And these crazies want to be part of it.”

“What?!”

“Yo, Chowder,” Holster said as he grabbed Chowder by the shoulder and leaned in close. “Check it. We pick a musical number, have practice and make costumes for the next two weeks, and presto-chango, the Samwell Men’s Hockey team becomes the most beautiful drag queen ensemble on campus. We’re totally gonna rock it.”

“We have two _very_ different definitions of beautiful,” Dex couldn’t help but add.

“I think Bitty would make a really pretty woman.”

“Awww,” Bitty cooed from where he sat engrossed in his phone. “You’re so sweet, honey. I’m sure you’ll be a beautiful queen, too. Though we’re definitely gonna have to do something about those eyebrows...” 

Chowder blushed and Dex suppressed a chuckle.

“So what I’m getting from all this is that there’s going to be a drag show, and Rans and Holster want us to do a team thing?” 

Dex could tell Nursey’s attention was on him again, but he refused to turn back toward him.

“Bingo,” Ransom answered.

“Chill.”

 _Of course it’s ‘chill’_ , Dex thought, bristling at the word and the ease with which Nursey just sat back into the couch and accepted their captains’ hair-brained idea. _Like it’s nothing at all to dress in drag and get up on stage in front of half the campus_. He snuck a peek down at Nursey and couldn’t quell whatever it was that bubbled up inside him, at his perfectly white teeth shining behind the rakish pull of his lips. _He probably thinks he looks good no matter what he’s wearing._

“So what’re we performing?” Nursey asked.

“Been trying to figure that out,” Holster sighed dramatically.

“So far we’ve got High School Musical, some sort of Glee number, _Cats_ ,” Ransom shot Holster a dirty look and Dex had to agree. Who the hell performed _Cats_? It wouldn’t even be drag at that point.

“Is that even drag?” Nursey chirped and Dex just closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Sometimes they were so in sync it was scary, and the knowledge felt like a solid weight resting in the pit of Dex’s stomach, both comforting and unnerving in its puzzling complexity.

“It’s artistic,” Holster sniped back.

“It’s offensive to multiple species.”

“Andrew Lloyd Webber didn’t know when to stop that train, bless his heart,” Bitty added. 

Holster gasped. “Bitty! You cannot tell me you don’t appreciate the glory that is _Cats_.”

“Allergic. Sorry.” He gave his best southern simper and Holster grasped at his chest in mock-affliction. “I’m not one much for musicals, anyway.”

“All my preconceived notions of small, pie-baking, gay southern boys have been flipped turned upside down,” Holster said, eyes comically wide.

“I swear to god if any of you indulge him by singing the rest of the song,” Ransom warned. “I will break out my Eastern Medicines textbook and pressure point your ass until you’re immobile for a week.”

“And he knows how to do it, too,” Holster added all too cheerily.

“Specifically the ass, though?” Nursey questioned and Dex just slapped him.

“How many of us are going to be performing?” Chowder asked.

“Hmm?”

“Well, I mean,” he continued, sounding a little nervous now that he might actually have something to contribute. “Wouldn’t it make sense to try and find a song for however many of us are performing?”

“Good thinking, Chowder!”

Chowder smiled and blushed again at the praise.

“Right, well, there’s me ‘n Rans,” Holster started, counting off on his fingers. “Bitty’s definitely in ‘cause he’s already tweeted about it. Then Nursey, and of course you. Unless you didn’t want to. But it totally sounded like you were down with it.” The strong suggestion in Holster’s voice meant that he’d definitely already counted Chowder in, and Dex could hear Shitty saying sagely in the back of his mind, _a healthy amount of friendly peer pressure is important in a young man’s life. Just don’t step over the line, because that’s definitely a no-go, bro_.

“Yeah, of course!” Chowder squeaked, eager as ever to please his friends. But Dex could tell he’d already been into the idea, anyway.

“And then Dex makes six,” Holster ended, wiggling a lone finger on his other hand, a shit-eating grin on his face. Dex felt his face burn, trapped between not actually having said “no” to them earlier, but also never agreeing to their plan either.

“You can’t tell me you’re not gonna do it with us, Poindexter.” Nursey was watching him again and this time the challenge was real. 

Dex’s eyes lit up as everything in him itched to push back. “No.”

“So you _are_ gonna do it with us?” The excitement in Chowder’s voice really was detrimental to any argument Dex might have been forming.

“I...” he started, unsure of where to go from there. “I dunno. This is really sudden. Like, ‘oh look, we just found this flyer and now we’re all totally going to dance on stage in makeup and women’s clothes and it definitely won’t be a disaster’.”

“ _Bro_.” Ransom looked at him, scandalized. “We found that flyer a whole _hour_ ago.”

“And this is totally a legit planning session right here,” Holster added.

“You have a problem with drag?” Nursey asked.

And _of course_ it had to be _Derek Nurse_ who wanted to know. Who continued to question the sometimes misguided things that came out of his mouth. The statements and thoughts and queries that didn’t sound poorly-worded until they’d passed his lips and Dex was wishing he could take them back and rework them into something more delicate and understanding. 

But Dex had always been blunt and had finally come to accept that humiliation was the only way he was going to learn any sort of finesse, so Dex’s ears turned red and he swallowed back the retort he would have snarled in response little more than a year ago.

“I don’t have a problem with drag,” he managed after moment.

“Well then you should totally be in!” Holster said.

Dex determined in that moment that with the amount of energy he was putting behind it, all of this had definitely been Holster’s idea. _No more RuPaul for you_ , Dex thought vehemently.

“I—” he began again as his eyes swept the room, stopping when they landed on Chowder. The grin on his face was so dopey, so obviously excited that Dex hated the thought of disappointing him. He ignored Nursey’s gaze as it bore into him, fixed and weighty and more calculating than it deserved to be.

Dex shrugged and Holster let out a low, celebratory hiss, fist clenching in victory. 

He’d figured on working a way out of it later and kept quiet for the rest of the night, hoping the fact that he’d never actually said he’d participate would lend weight to his future argument.

And now the future was here, staring him full in the face under the guise of a friendly email. Dex let out a long sigh and let his head fall back, eyes unfocused as they took in his eggshell-white ceiling.

Whatever it was he was going to say, he’d better think of it quick.

  


~*~

“It sounds like fun, Dex,” Chowder reasoned from his spot on the floor. “And Ransom and Holster are already counting on six, so we need you, man.”

Dex sighed. “Yeah, I saw the email this morning.” He sat back in his chair, and after a moment’s contemplative quiet, continued. “That’s kind of the problem, C.”

“What is?”

“I dunno, I just… I don’t like it when I don’t have a _choice_.”

Chowder raised one of his fantastically ridiculous eyebrows.

“We all have a choice in this, Dex. I mean, you were there, Holster gave all of us an out.” Chowder met his gaze and a beat of silence filled the space between them. “But I don’t see what the big deal is,” he pressed. “Everyone on campus is gonna be there.” 

Dex leveled an incredulous look at him.

“Okay, okay. I see how that might not sound like _the best_ argument. But this guy in my stats class said they already have like, twenty acts signed up, and a lot of positive feedback from the faculty as well as from students. We’re not gonna be alone up there.”

“This guy collecting data about the student drag show for a reason?” Dex asked flippantly.

“Actually yeah,” Chowder answered as he perked up a little. “His name’s Bryan. Brown hair, thick kinda glasses?” Dex didn’t know the guy, so he shrugged. “He’s actually a member of the GSA and is tracking how everything’s going so they can do projections for next year. Since they want to make it an annual thing, you know?”

“Sure,” Dex added noncommittally. 

“I think he also might turn the data into something for our final stats project, which is a great way to double-down on assignments. Anyway,” he continued after Dex had nothing to say about Bryan or his ability to get away with less work and still pass his classes. “If you really don’t want to do it, no one’s going to make you. But it won’t be as fun without you.” Chowder gave him his sad eyes and Dex couldn’t help but playfully roll his own.

“Well now how am I supposed to refuse that, C?” He leaned forward in his chair and got an arm around Chowder’s head, starting in on a noogie that landed both of them flat on the floor the moment Chowder tried to wiggle out of it. Dex felt light as they rolled on the carpet, Chowder’s hair coarse under his knuckles and his body a warm weight against his own. The tactile sensations mixed with the sounds of their laughter resonated deep in his chest, and any tension Dex may have been harboring quickly evaporated.

Dex had known college was going to give him opportunities and experiences that would change him, would give him a better chance at life than what he’d known growing up in rural Maine. It was the reason people went off to school, got an education in bigger and better things.

But the biggest thing he’d take away from his time at Samwell, Dex knew, the most important and influential, were moments like this, on the floor of his dorm room with a friend up in his personal space, nothing but laughter and support and love between them. It was the people he hadn’t known he’d needed in his life, and whom he now couldn’t imagine ever living without. 

Dex’s face cracked with a grin he wished he could hold onto forever.

  


~*~

Ransom and Holster had called for another brainstorming session on Sunday, strongly advising everyone have all homework finished beforehand as no one would be leaving until the group had decided on a song for the show. Dex had yet to figure out an excuse to get himself out of it all. Though, if he was being honest with himself, Chowder’s constant use of his big, black, imploring eyes over the last twenty-four hours had greatly worn at his already feeble resistance. Not that he was ready to admit that to anyone. Self-preservation dictated Dex stay as quiet on the subject as possible, and that was his intended plan of action. Show up, shut up, and hopefully get out unscathed.

Unfortunately, he was the last one to join the already animated party seated at the kitchen table, putting an undue amount of attention on the fact that he’d actually made an appearance.

“Dex!” Ransom bellowed, throwing his arms wide. “Knew I wasn’t wrong putting my money on you. And by money I mean pie. Now pay up, Holtzy,” Ransom smirked before pulling the plate of pie sitting in front of Holster over to himself. 

Holster’s face fell as he watched his snack disappear. “But, my pie…”

“Boys please,” Bitty said from his spot at the counter. “Cookies are in the oven. No meeting can be run on yesterday’s pie alone.”

“Hey, Dex,” Chowder smiled as he pulled out the chair next to him. “I’m glad you came,” he added a moment later, voice quiet as Dex took his seat. 

Dex offered him a small smile, happy Chowder wasn’t making a big deal of him being there. Despite his open and often loud enthusiasm, Chowder truly understood his friends, something Dex appreciated to no end. 

“Yo, Dex,” Nursey’s voice rolled over him like warm summer surf, bubbly and bracing as he nudged Dex with his elbow. Dex’s eyes flicked to him, catching the lazy smile that practically lived on Nursey’s face hitch up a fraction higher. “Holster here said you weren’t coming. Wouldn’t listen to the rest of us.” Nursey’s gaze rested on him, easy and unexpectant, but Dex could see something else swimming deep beneath their mossy green sheen.

“Uh, yeah,” Dex answered after a moment, breaking away from Nursey’s silent scrutiny by turning to Holster and forcing a laugh. “What’d you think was gonna happen?” His affected amusement sounded thin even to himself, and Dex hoped no one would notice.

“Well,” Ransom said through a mouthful of pie. “You didn’t seem very into it on Friday.”

“Yeah, dude,” Holster piped up, poking his empty fork at Dex. “And now that I think about it, you never actually said yes. If Shitty’s taught me anything, it’s explicit consent or no-go, baby.”

“Er…” Dex stalled, eyes darting from Chowder to Bitty to Nursey as the room itself seemed to stare at him, his friends’ unvoiced question hanging in the air, cornering Dex as much as his own foolish words had. “You see—”

“Jesus, Poindexter. If you’re too chicken-shit to do it, just say so.”

“I’m not chicken-shit, _Nurse_ ,” Dex spat.

“You sure? This isn’t some heteronormative bullshit come to take all the fun out of your life again?” The lofty derision in Nursey’s voice crawled under Dex’s skin.

“Nursey,” Chowder whined.

“What?” Nursey turned to Chowder, brows knit and lips turned down in distaste. “I’m so sick of his backwoods, old-world, ‘family values’ crap.”

“Well now that’s just not fair,” Bitty said emphatically as he stepped up to the table. “I know how hard it is to grow up with that, and y’all should know better by now.”

“Yeah dude,” Holster cut in, eyes narrowed in what they all knew was his disappointed face. “Dex’s come a long way.” 

Dex glanced at him and frowned. “Uh, thanks, I guess.”

“Holtzy! Not cool, bro.”

“Ah, shit. Sorry, Dex. I meant like… I mean… You know what I mean, right?” Holster looked at him imploringly.

“I think?” Dex answered, though knowing what Holster meant didn’t make him feel any better about himself or the situation.

Ransom shared an awkwardly grimaced smile with Dex and then took another bite of pie.

Dex felt Bitty’s hand on his shoulder and looked up into soft, brown eyes. “I’m sorry, Dex.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry about,” he said after a moment.

“Yeah, there is,” Bitty said gently. He withdrew his hand and moved back to the oven. “Cookies’ll be done in five, but no touching them for a solid ten minutes.”

The sudden shift in the atmosphere was palpable, but no one said a word about it. Holster played his part in complaining about Bitty’s miserly cookie rules and Dex was allowed to relax into his chair, silently sighing in relief as he let his anger run down and out through his toes. 

After a few minutes, Dex opened his eyes to Chowder’s light poke at his thigh. He turned to his best friend and Chowder smiled, small and gentle and full of more meaning than all the teeth in Holster’s widest grin. Dex smiled back, willing all of his gratitude into the set of his lips.

“So?” Chowder whispered, a bit of apprehension creeping in behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” Dex murmured. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” Chowder asked, just as softly.

“Yeah.”

Chowder’s face split and he turned back to the table while Dex marveled at how easy the word had been. How simple and freeing. He knew part of him had felt pushed by Nursey, pushed to prove him wrong, to make him eat his self-righteous words. His anger had dissipated, but Derek Nurse always managed to hit a nerve that lingered past all else.

Dex knew, though, that the greater part of him had already been there, ready to give up whatever ghost the back of his mind had been holding on to and just say yes. Ready to dress in drag and dance and lip-sync in front of the rest of the school, to make what a year and a half ago he would have called a fool of himself. Ready to join his friends as they embraced something new, something different, and just had fun.

Dex was ready for fun.

“Okay,” Holster’s voice brought him back to the present. “You seriously won’t do _Cats_?”

“ _No_ ,” the table chorused.

“Why does it have to be a musical?” Ransom questioned. “Why not like, the Spice Girls?”

“There are only five Spice Girls,” Bitty said, clearly affronted.

“Because musicals give us the most to work with, Rans. We’ve got six people,” Holster reasoned, daring a glance at Dex. He nodded slightly and Holster continued with a grin. “And six people leaves us with musicals or mash-ups or K-Pop as our options.”

“Oh god, not the K-Pop,” Ransom wailed.

“Yet oddly enough you’re okay with the Spice Girls?” Nursey observed dryly.

“They were the sound of a generation.”

“Yeah, just not your generation.”

“There is no escaping the Spice Girls when one grows up with sisters in the 90s.”

“Spice up your life,” Bitty smirked as he laid a plate of cinnamon cookies on the table.

“I’d call you out on that pun,” Holster said through a mouthful of cookie. “But these are too delicious for me to care.”

“Keep your moaning to the attic,” Dex chirped, earning him another emphatic moan from Holster in response.

“What about like, Chicago?” Chowder asked.

“Hmm?”

“I think Holster’s right about the musicals thing,” he said and Holster whooped. “Caitlin and I watched it last week. There’s that song they sing in the jail. I can’t remember if it’s six women or not, though...”

“No, I think you’re right, C,” Nursey said. 

Everyone but Dex turned to him in question. He could already see enough of Nursey out of the corner of his eye, which was really more than he wanted at the moment, anyway. 

“What? I can like musicals. They’re artistic and shit. Plus, my mom likes Broadway,” he added with a shrug.

“Lemme google it.” Ransom whipped out his phone and started typing. “What’s the name of the song?”

“Cell Block Tango,” Nursey supplied and this time Dex did look at him. He had enough grace to sheepishly meet Dex’s eyes before glancing away.

“Got it! Okay…hmm… Yes! Six people! Does anyone else know this song?” Ransom looked up from his phone.

“Yeah,” Bitty drawled as he nibbled a cookie. “Momma’s favorite. Think that speaks to somethin’?” 

Nursey cocked a brow. “I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole.”

“I don’t know it,” Dex said.

“I kinda remember it,” Chowder added. “But it was late and I was kind of falling asleep…” His cheeks went pink and Dex couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“I think Farmer’ll forgive you, C.”

“Well I haven’t seen it either, so I got it up on youtube. Get your asses over here and we’ll watch this.” Ransom flipped his phone sideways and held it up as chairs scraped across the floor. Holster leaned over from his spot next to Ransom and rested his chin on his shoulder, Bitty positioned close on Ransom’s other side. The rest of them crowded behind him, Chowder in front due to his height.

For the next seven minutes, the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team watched in relative silence as the six merry murderesses of the Crook County Jail recounted the sins of their husbands and the ways in which they’d disposed of them. Despite their quiet, the group was abuzz with nervous energy as each of them realized how brilliant a fit the song was turning out to be. When the video was over, Ransom leaned back in his chair.

“Boys,” he said, voice heavy with resolution. “I think we’ve found our song.”

“All thanks to Chowder over here!” Holster beamed as he reached over and slapped Chowder on the back.

“Pretty chill, C.” Nursey held out his fist for a bump and Chowder started to stumble over the praise.

“It wasn’t anything,” he deflected, silver-lined grin overtaking his features. “I’m just glad we found something.”

“You’re way too humble, bro,” Ransom said as he pulled up lyrics on his phone. “Just run with it.” Chowder flushed even darker.

Dex nudged his shoulder as the group spread out around the table again.

“Good job, C.”

“Thanks. Glad you’ll be doing it with us.”

“Yeah,” Dex breathed softly. “Me too.”

  


~*~

An hour later saw them still seated at the table, cookie plate a barren tray of crumbs and patience wearing thin in more than one corner. They’d argued over costumes before settling on cheap orange jumpsuits from an online Halloween warehouse; something that agreed with both Dex’s wallet and Bitty’s need to look good. The compromise had come with the idea that they were all allowed to modify the suit as they saw fit. Dex was sure Holster had agreed purely on the prospect of fitting the largest pair of breasts possible under the baggy material.

“Okay, now that that’s done,” Ransom said, agitation edging his voice. “We just need to divvy up these roles and then I can finally stop having to look at your faces.”

“That’s not very captainly of you.”

“I can just randomly assign them,” Ransom continued, pointedly ignoring Chowder’s whine.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Nursey complained from behind Bitty’s tablet. “All these ladies are so badass, they deserve to be played properly.”

“Jesus, Nurse, this isn’t a full-scale production,” Dex said.

“I dunno, I just figure if we’re going to do this, we should do it right.” The table at large eyed him so he elaborated. “You know, like, everyone does their favorite part or something?”

“How can I have a favorite part if I’ve just heard the song for the first time?” Holster wondered.

“What, you can’t tell me you’ve never had like, an instant favorite before.” 

Holster grinned. “Heck yeah. And he’s the best roommate a guy could ever have.” He held up his fist for a bump and Ransom returned it.

“Favorites would be a bit difficult,” Bitty drawled. “But what about something based on personality? All the parts are different, so we could pick who fits who best. Like, have Chowder be… Oh, I don’t remember her name, whoever the acrobat is.”

“I’ve never done any acrobatics.”

“Yes, but you can do the splits.”

“So can you,” Chowder countered.

“Maybe in my heyday I could,” Bitty lamented.

“That’s not what Jack’s said,” Holster sniggered. Bitty just glared.

“Okay, but joking aside, that’s a really good idea, Bits,” Ransom said, opening a new document on his phone. “Hey Nursey, you’ve got the lyrics up, yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

“Mind giving me all the names and giving us a basic personality rundown?”

“Yeah sure. Velma’s the acrobat, so you can check that one off.” He grinned at Chowder and then continued, listing off the five other women in the song, any character types gleaned from the lyrics, and how they’d killed their husbands. Ransom’s fingers flew across his phone as he made up a list, everyone else listening and musing on who would be best for each role.

Having already agreed on Chowder’s role, they made quick work of assigning Nursey to Mona, “what with the whole artist thing,” as Ransom had put it. The suggestion and subsequent argument that Bitty should play Annie had been heated, but Bitty eventually resigned himself to the fact that there’d be no winning and simply disengaged, pursing his lips in distaste. Dex could understand his aversion to it—the idea of murder by poisoned drink having been pitched as both passive-aggressive and food-related—but he still sided with everyone else in thinking it most appropriate for him. 

“Dex is Liz,” Nursey said as they moved on from Bitty’s annoyed glare. Dex restrained a scowl and tried not to think the worst of where this was going.

“Go on,” Ransom encouraged.

“Well. She didn’t like him popping his gum, right? And a lot of things seem to annoy Dex, so that’s kinda similar.” Nursey’s eyes never left Ransom and Dex realized he was avoiding him. “Plus, he’s probably the only one here who’s used a shotgun.” 

Everyone nodded in assent.

“Seriously? You saw she used a shotgun and you instantly thought of me?” Dex caught Nursey flinch, but it was such a small thing he almost thought he’d imagined it. 

Nursey looked at him. “You’ve said before you’ve been out hunting with your uncle…”

“I remember that story!” Chowder cut in. “You said you shot a chicken!”

“It was quail, C. And yeah,” Dex said as he turned his attention back to Nursey. “I have used a shotgun before.” They stared at each other for a moment before Dex cooly looked away.

“Dex is Liz, then,” Ransom said a moment later, voice matter-of-fact as he made note on his phone.

“Who’s left, then?” Bitty asked, scrolling on his tablet over Nursey’s shoulder. “June and Hunyak.”

“June’s the one that stabbed her husband, right?”

“Rans would probably lose it and stab a fucker.” Everyone looked at Holster where he lay slumped over on the table.

“Is that… is that racist?” Dex asked, face screwed up in consternation.

“Wasn’t meant to be.”

“It’s cool, dude.” They shared some secret bro telepathy and grinned simultaneously, everyone else long since accustomed to the Ransom-Holster dynamic to find anything odd about the exchange.

“Sooo, that leaves Hunyak for Holster.” Dex leveled a look around the table. “Anyone got any witty connections for that one?” The team stared back at him, the deep, bottomless gaze of either contemplation or indifference etched on each of their faces.

“Yeah, not really.”

“They both start with ‘H’?”

“You always think of something, don’t you, Chowder?” Holster beamed.

“I guess,” Chowder smiled.

“We still need a man,” Bitty said without looking up from where his fingers flew across the surface of his phone.

“Uh, Bitty,” Nursey began, voice perplexed. “This table’s full of dudes.”

Bitty glanced pointedly at Nursey and then back down. “No, like someone to _play_ a man. Specifically, the man who represents all our characters’ husbands.”

“So we need a lady. To play a man…” Ransom’s voice trailed off.

Holster sat up, snapping his fingers. “I got it! LARD—”

“You rang?” Lardo asked, suddenly appearing around the corner.

“—o.” Holster’s mouth closed softly on the syllable, his exuberance dampened. “How’d you know we needed you?”

“Bitty’s been live-tweeting this whole charade.” She moved into the kitchen and grabbed a soda from the fridge. “Twenty-five seconds ago it became apparent you needed a drag king. _I_ needed a caffeine boost.” Lardo tipped the can forward in acknowledgement before popping it open. “Figured I’d come see if I could be of service,” she finished, grin half-hidden by the cool metal between her lips.

“How much do you know before I over-explain everything?” Ransom asked.

“Everything I need to, I’d wager. I really started paying attention around the time you confessed to knowing every Spice Girls song.”

“Oh my god, you did _not_ tweet that, Bits!?”

“I think she took some liberties interpreting my words,” Bitty said, a mischievous curl to his lips. Ransom threw his head back and covered his face with his hands.

“Ugh! I’m never going to live this down now. Girls don’t wanna get with a guy who likes bad gurl-power pop from the 90s!”

“Is that what you’ve heard we want? What we really really want?” Lardo chirped.

“I _will_ get you for this, Bitty,” Ransom muttered forebodingly.

“So you know we’re doing Chicago,” Dex said, trying to get the conversation back on track. “What about the song?”

“I youtubed it.”

“Would you really want to be our dead husbands, Lardo?” Chowder asked, a little awed.

“Yeah, dude. Sounds like fun.”

Dex watched her as she relaxed against the counter, black eyes gleaming in the glow of the setting sun. Like Chowder, he’d been surprised that she’d so readily agreed to joining them. But as he regarded her easy stance here in the kitchen, dishing out her acerbic wit with a good-natured smile, Dex realized she probably loved it. Loved the idea of dressing in drag and having a bunch of hockey players confessing to murdering her. No doubt it tickled that darker side of her. And even Dex had to admit that the role-reversal of a six-foot, muscle-bound man pleading his moral innocence while admitting to killing the tiniest girl on campus was, artistically speaking, genius.

“This. Is going to be. _Perfect_ ,” Holster said, glee oozing from his lips with every word. “We already have costumes picked out. Did you need us to order you anything, or…?

“Naw, I’ve got a suit upstairs for when I need to dress snazzy but also look butch.”

“Ah yes, the classic ‘snazzy butch’ look,” Nursey grinned.

“Though an excursion to acquire facial hair will be necessary.”

“We’ll needs wigs, too,” Chowder added.

“Penciling it in right now, C,” Ransom added as he flipped through his phone’s calendar. “Let’s see… We’ve got a little under two weeks to practice before the show, but we don’t need full costumes right away.”

“As long as I have at least a few days with that orange monstrosity,” Bitty put in. “I can’t work my magic overnight, you know.”

“We’ve got them on rush, Bitty, don’t worry.” Ransom looked back at his phone. “I’ll make up a spreadsheet for practice and get it out in an email tonight. I know our frogs have a free afternoon on Wednesday, so why don’t you guys head into town and get wigs for everyone? And a mustache for Lardo here.”

“Gimme the ol’ razzle dazzle five o’clock shadow, boys,” she said with a wink.

Holster stood up and stretched, groaning like he wasn’t a college student in the prime of his youth. “Well, I think we’ve got it all figured out. Rans’ll take care of the logistics, so this captain’s calling the meeting officially over.” He rolled his shoulders and began picking up the mess of plates from the table. “Thanks for the food, Bitty.”

“Of course,” he answered, stifling a yawn. “Now if y’all will excuse me, I’ve got a skype call in fifteen minutes I don’t look ready for.”

“Jack’s seen you wipe out on the ice before, Bitty,” Ransom said good-naturedly. “I don’t think he cares what you look like.” 

Bitty cast him a glare only a true southern boy could pull off, half smile and all vinegar. “Sure, sweetie.” 

Bitty retreated up the stairs as the rest of the room began to shuffle from the table, chairs scraping across linoleum and dishes clinking in the sink. Chowder walked over to Ransom to discuss something, but Dex didn’t catch what it was, already halfway to the door himself before their conversation began.

He picked up his backpack from where it sat waiting in the entryway and glanced at his watch as he shouldered it. It was early enough that Dex figured he had enough time to hit the cafe on campus before it closed. The 7-11 on the corner was closer, but Dex felt like the programming assignment awaiting him deserved a _decent_ cup of coffee, rather than the scorched pot he’d inevitably find at the convenience store.

He’d made it as far as the porch step when a voice called softly behind him.

“Hey, Dex?”

Dex swung around. Nursey stood in the open doorway as light spilled from inside the Haus,  
casting long shadows across his features in the fastly fading twilight. Dex waited and, after a moment’s hesitation, Nursey moved out onto the porch, closing the the door behind him. 

“I wanted to apologize for earlier,” he began, hidden now in almost complete darkness. “What I said…”

Nursey’s voice echoed in Dex’s mind, the word “chickenshit” ringing cold and harsh between his ears. Dex felt heat rise in his face.

“Yeah?” He tried to keep his tone neutral, but the hostility welling up inside him edged its way in.

Nursey twitched, took half a step forward, then seemed to think better of it. The dim outline of his body was fidgeting, hands held low as his fingers toyed with the pockets of his jeans.

“It was totally uncalled for.”

“Damn right it was.”

“It’s only that I…” Nursey trailed off, shaking his head. “No. No, it doesn’t matter.” 

The porch light flickered on just as he looked up and Dex was abruptly face-to-face with Nursey, his eyes intense and inescapable. They seemed to glow, a rich, deep color that could have simply been a mere trick of the light.

But Dex had seen that expression before; the earnest set of brow and steady gaze that sang of Nursey’s conviction. It changed his eyes, saturating their color to the truest of greens. A green Dex knew he could trust. A green that spoke of honesty and remorse.

“I’m sorry, Dex.”

Dex was silent, transfixed not by Nursey’s words, but by the sincerity etched into every line of his face. His heart thumped, hard and unexpected, in the back of Dex’s throat. 

Seconds dragged between them, the air quiet and inert, until Nursey whispered again.

“I’m sorry.”

The words broke through Dex’s stupor and he grunted, shuffling back an inch for the space he suddenly, desperately needed.

“A-apology accepted.”

A small smile graced Nursey’s features, more somber than his full lips had any right to be.

“I guess I’ll see you Wednesday?” 

Dex’s mind raced to remember what was happening on Wednesday.

“Right. Yeah. Wigs,” was all he could add when he’d finally recalled Ransom’s distribution of duties.

“Wigs,” Nursey confirmed. 

Uncertain of what his own response should be, Dex moved toward the stairs. “Wednesday,” he repeated distantly. 

He turned and made it down two steps before glancing over his shoulder. It was almost an afterthought, but the words felt right on his lips, calm and soothing as he said them before turning away again.

“Goodnight, Nursey.”

“Goodnight, Dex.”

  


~*~

“What about this one?” Chowder asked as he wrestled a long, red wig over his black hair. A few dark strands were visible through the neat row of bright bangs that had settled lopsided across his forehead.

“I don’t think red’s your color, C,” Dex chuckled.

“Yeah, man,” Nursey added. “It takes a certain, _je ne sais quois_ to pull off that kind of fire.” He glanced at Dex in the mirror and smirked before turning back to the styrofoam heads lining the wall.

Dex watched him as Nursey perused the selection of wigs, fingering a hideously pink bob before moving on to something more mundane. There’d been something… heavy, in the pull of Nursey’s gaze as he’d uttered the phrase, Dex would swear it. But there was nothing to suggest Nursey meant anything by it in the way he casually continued on with the task at hand. Dex took a deep breath and willed himself to stop reading into things that weren’t there.

“So how into this are we gonna get? Because, like, I really don’t think hair matters too much. Besides,” Dex added as he turned over a price tag on the closest wig and winced. “These things are way too expensive for a one-time thing.”

“Despite the fact that drag queens take great pride in their miles of hair, I’m gonna have to agree with you there,” Nursey remarked. 

Dex raised his brows, punctuating the look with an incredulous frown. “I’ve never seen you worry about the cost of something before.”

“Yeah, well, it’s more of the waste of it, you know?” Nursey turned to him and Dex wondered again if there was something else going on. Not that Nursey had ever shown himself to be completely frivolous when it came to money, but he’d never been particularly frugal, either.

“What about these ones?” Chowder asked from the corner of the shop, voice louder and more enthusiastic than necessary to fill the tiny space. 

He stood by a large basket with a “discount” sign taped to the front. When Dex came to join him, he saw that it was full of hair wrapped up and factory-sealed in clear plastic baggies, a picture of a model wearing the enclosed wig the only indication of its style. All of them were marked under twenty dollars.

“Nice find,” Dex smiled as he dug through the basket. 

“Is there anything in there like this?” Nursey asked as he cocked his head, golden tresses framing his face as he coyishly twirled a lock around his index finger. Dex snorted as Chowder started laughing. “No good?”

“Oh gosh. Sorry, Nursey, but just…” Chowder trailed off as a fit of giggles overtook him again. “No.” 

“Aw, come on. I can’t be that bad. Dex?”

Dex didn’t even need to think twice about how the wig looked on Nursery. Every bit of it was wrong, from the way the silky blond hair clashed with his rich mocha skin to how the length of it hid his strong jawline. The summery color washed out the green of his eyes and Dex thought he looked like a bad Nicki Minaj impersonator.

“Might want to stick with what you got, Nursey,” he teased.

“Is it the color? Or…” Nursey wondered.

“It’s everything, dude.”

“Really?” he asked again, the dejected tone of his voice catching somewhere in Dex’s chest.

“Yeah, like…” Dex stopped, still a bit off-balance and not knowing exactly what he should say. After a moment, the truth won out. “You just look better like you, you know? Just Nursey.”

“Just me, huh?” 

Nursey’s smile was so blinding, Dex couldn’t help but return it.

  


~*~

The next week and a half flew by in a dizzying flurry of classes, homework, drag practice, costume alterations—Bitty wouldn’t let anyone get away with leaving their jumpsuit unmodified—and makeup testing. How Lardo had convinced him to allow a pencil anywhere near his eyes was beyond Dex; but she’d kept the look minimal as per request and he’d been impressed with her ability to both enhance his looks as well as transform them into something wildly more feminine.

The day of the show saw an early start for Dex as he got up before his normal alarm to get as much schoolwork as possible out of the way before the weekend turned hectic. They had a final rehearsal scheduled for 5:30, but everyone was planning on being at the Haus by 4:00 to meet Jack and Shitty when they arrived. Before that, he had a last-minute costume check to make sure everything fit and he hadn’t lost too many inches of his pants to Bitty’s fabric shears. 

“Shark!” his phone shouted from where it rested on the upper shelf of his desk. “Shark!” it sang again as the ringtone’s drumbeat rolled out from the speakers. Dex reached up and grabbed it without looking, his mind trying to keep the numbers on the page in front of him straight as his phone continued to ring. “Shark!” It managed one last time before he was able to swipe right and pick up the call.

“What’s up, Chowder?”

“How many sequins is too many sequins!?” Chowder’s voice squeaked from the other end.

“Any amount of sequins is too many,” Dex replied evenly.

“I ‘effed up, Dex!” Chowder wheezed. “I ‘effed up so bad!”

“ _Breathe_ , C. It’s a drag show. You could _roll around_ in sequins and no one’s gonna bat an eye.” 

Dex listened to Chowder take a few deep breaths, a small smile spreading across his face at his friend’s comical delima. 

“Okay, okay. I think I’m good now. Thanks, Dex.”

“No problem. Out of curiousity,” Dex said after a moment. “How many sequins _did_ you put on your costume?”

“I don’t know. I bought like, seven bags and they’re each one-hundred count. But there’s a lot on the floor…” Dex chuckled. “I was gluing all night and now that I’m looking at it, it just looks so _shiny_.”

“That’s perfect. Everyone will be so focused on you and your blinding jumpsuit, I won’t have to worry about them even seeing me.”

“You’re not still worried about performing, are you?”

“Yeah,” Dex answered immediately, surprising himself with how easy he was able to admit it.

“You’ve been doing great in practice, though. We all look so good!” 

The conviction in Chowder’s voice brought a smile of a different type to Dex’s lips, soft and grateful and affectionate. “Everyone else looks amazing, yeah.”

“You do too, Dex.”

“I look like a large orange scarecrow in a large orange jumpsuit,” Dex said, voice flat.

“We all look large and orange,” Chowder reasoned. “We’re hockey players. In prison clothes.”

“Prison clothes with sequins,” Dex chirped, trying to get the subject off of his own insecurities. 

“Prison clothes with sequined _sharks_ ,” Chowder said gleefully.

“You didn’t!”

“I did. Didn’t even ask Lardo for help, either.” 

Dex could hear Chowder’s grin and it was infectious. The worry that had been eating away at him all morning abated in the face of their easy laughter, and Dex felt himself relax into his chair.

“‘Swawesome. Can’t wait to see it, bro.”

“When’re you coming over?”

“Doing a fitting with Bitty at three. Hopefully I can get this calc stuff done before then, otherwise I’ll be camping out on your floor with it ‘til Shits and Jack get here.”

“Okay, cool. I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Bye, C.”

“Bye.”

Dex hung up and set his phone back on the shelf, hoping it’d stay silent for the few hours he had left to himself. He knew he wouldn’t have time tonight for anything school-wise after this drag-ball started rolling, and tomorrow would probably see him groggy at best, hung-over at worst if Shitty decided to break out the tub juice. Which Dex was almost certain he would. 

He had more homework than was really fair this close to end-of-term and finals, but he hardly expected his professor to care. As it was, the drawn-out and involved equations were enough of a distraction to keep his mind fully occupied. All thoughts of the show and his nerves were mercifully put on hold until the chiming of his alarm told Dex it was 2:30. Time to get ready to head over to the Haus and see Bitty.

Time for Drag Night to begin.

  


~*~

“Good evening, boys and girls, trannies and tramps, and all of you with weird fetishes for sexy leg lamps. Welcome to Samwell University’s first annual Student Drag show!” 

Dex watched the boisterous woman from his spot near the side of the stage, next to the curtained-off makeshift dressing area he’d soon be occupying with his teammates. He’d never seen a drag queen in person, and her larger-than-life persona drew him in like he never thought a man in women’s clothing could.

“I will be your hostess for the evening,” she continued. “The ever effervescent Buxom Cummins. And here along with me is the enchanting Deedee Diamond. Get over here, Deedee, and give me the proper introduction due a lady.”

Deedee Diamond gracefully flowed across the stage, her long shimmering dress trailing behind her like a pool of glittering blue jewels. Dex thought of Chowder’s shark and snickered. 

“Now don’t you listen to her,” Deedee spoke to the audience in a low, conspiratorial tone. “She’s definitely _not_ a lady!” Buxom Cummins gasped dramatically and Deedee shrugged, unapologetic. “Darling, they all know what you’ve got under that tired old dress.”

“Yes, and I know what you’re _lacking_ under yours,” Buxom Cummins spat back and everyone roared with laughter. The ladies’ exchange was expert, a perfect balance of venom and humor, and Dex found himself succumbing to their abrasive charm.

“Disappointing surprises aside,” Buxom said, eyes askance as they took in Deedee’s defiant form. “I’m sure you’re all ready for our first performance.” 

Dex joined in as everyone cheered and Chowder nudged him, a huge grin plastered across his face. Dex blushed and gave in to the notion that not only was he already having fun, but people were bound to notice. At least, those around him who cared enough to spare him a look. 

“Did you get a look at all the little chickens back there, Buxom? So small and sweet. I just wanted to ruffle their innocent little feathers,” Deedee cooed.

“Don’t manhandle the livestock, Dee. At least not until after the show.” 

She gave a salacious wink before announcing the president of the GSA and her girlfriend, who came out and lip-synched to Mulan’s _I’ll Make a Man Out of You_. Dex snorted as one of them—already in full drag—danced and sang to his partner, all while tearing the cute sundress from her body and replacing it with baggy jeans, tight muscle shirt, and a backwards cap. They finished the look off with a fake mustache, then began stalking around the stage, striking poses and flexing, pretending to play beer pong and high-fiving. It ended with a wrestling match-turned-makeout-session, both of them pumping fists into the air on the final “hguh!” of the song.

Everyone clapped vigorously as they left the stage and Buxom Cummins and Deedee Diamond ascended the steps again, sweeping their arms wide with congratulations and more witty barbs. Dex shifted as one of the acts moved past him into the costume area, and he wondered how long it would be until they were called. One of the event coordinators had told everyone when they’d first arrived that someone on staff would call them in to change during the act before theirs, and that all performers should remain in the designated area before their performance. Until then, it was watch the rest of the show and try to breathe through the suffocating beast rapidly crawling its way up the back of his throat. 

“Don’t worry,” Chowder whispered near Dex’s ear. “We’re gonna be great.” Dex felt a small smile creep across his face despite his nerves, appreciative of the reassuring hand resting on his shoulder.

“Thanks, C. Don’t think I’ll believe it ‘til I see it. But… thanks.”

Chowder squeezed his arm and then dropped his hand, turning to Holster to mutter something lost in the din of laughter, the audience caught delightfully off guard by one of Buxom Cummins’ jokes.

“You’re kinda surprising, you know that, Poindexter,” Nursey said, suddenly by his side and crowding him just enough so that his words couldn’t be overheard by the others. Dex glanced at him, but Nursey’s gaze was fixed on the stage. There was a smile on his face, but the pull of his lips looked uneasy and Dex wondered what Nursey could possibly be worried about. 

“I’m proud of you.”

Heat rose in Dex’s cheeks, a mixture of emotions that didn’t include the anger he’d expect at such a condescending statement suddenly pattering in his chest. He looked again and this time Nursey was watching him, eyes glimmering in the low light. 

Any other time, and this scenario would have Dex fuming. But there was something hanging between them, here in the midst of the people and the laughter and the energy. It was like they were on the ice, connecting on a level neither had ever taken the time to stop and analyze. When they skated, they were Nursey-and-Dex, sticks and sweat and nothing but pure adrenaline, and it was easy; too easy to shatter later with words and discussion and deeper thought. 

Nursey’s voice, though. It told Dex everything he needed to know and yet still nothing at all, its soft lilt warm even as it wavered and betrayed the edge Nursey’s confidence currently walked. It pulled at him, a comfort and an enigma, and Dex didn’t know how to respond other than to keep staring into eyes that had yet to leave his own.

“Holster says we’re going in next!” Chowder’s bright voice cut in, bursting the small bubble that had formed around them. Nursey stepped back and smiled at Chowder.

“Chill. You ready, boys?” he called to the rest of the gang, all evidence of the last minute’s tension missing from his enthusiastic shout. 

Dex blinked as Nursey moved away, trying to piece together what had just happened, when the full meaning of Chowder’s words hit him. “We’re next?” he all but gulped.

“For changing, yeah. They’re giving us extra time since we’ve got seven people.”

Before Dex could stutter a reply, Ransom was herding everyone forward through the curtain of the dressing room. 

“It’s go time!”

“Hockey players go in,” Holster said, barely able to keep his voice at an unobtrusive level. “Sexy ladies come out!”

“Only if Lardo can work miracles,” Bitty chirped and Holster grinned, wide-eyed and excited as he sorted through their costumes on the rack and started handing them out.

What followed was a mess of clothes, hair, and makeup as the team stripped and made themselves up in record time. Lardo flitted amongst them with her bag, helping transform each of their faces with brush and pencil, more magic than makeup in the wand of her mascara. Dex hardly recognized Ransom and Holster, who’d asked for the full treatment and were now masked beneath a layer of foundation and glittering shadow, their wigs having been impressively styled the day before and resting perfectly over the set of their shoulders. Bitty had gone slightly more low-key, but the full smokey eye he’d perfected himself went devastatingly well with the prison jumpsuit he’d cut extra short in the pants, sleeves rolled up his slender arms to rest enticingly below the elbow.

Dex was distracted for moment by the glittering shark on Chowder’s back before Lardo appeared before him, already dressed herself in dark corduroy and suspenders, her fake facial hair convincing even as she leaned in close to apply Dex’s makeup.

Over her shoulder, Dex’s eyes landed on Nursey as he slipped into his costume, his strong back disappearing under the loose orange material. Dex felt it a shame the suit should hide so much, then frowned at the odd thought.

“Quit it,” Lardo said, poking his cheek with a finger. “Stop scrunching your face up.” 

“Hockey team?! You’re on in one minute,” someone called from outside the room and they scurried to finish, finally pushing past the curtain and onto the stage faster than Dex had time to process. He passed Buxom Cummins on the small set of stairs and she winked at him, red lips drawn in a bright and encouraging smile. 

They lined up and Dex struggled for a deep breath, the sports bra smashing small bundles of rolled-up socks to his chest tight and overly constricting. He closed his eyes as he reined in his nervous energy, willing it to work for rather than against him. 

The track started and the sound of dripping water echoed around the quiet room, the subtle beginnings of the song roaring in Dex’s ears. He counted out the beats as they fell, the _tap tap tap_ running down time until the moment he’d have to throw his head up, the whole audience watching, and sync his lips to the word,

“POP!”

“SIX!” Bitty said under his breath next to him, angling his shoulders in a quick thrust of his chest.

“SQUISH!” Ransom was far enough away that Dex couldn’t quite make him out in his peripheral vision, but he knew the lines and the moves they’d choreographed and he waited for his next cue, bright lights burning into his retinas and blurring the sea of bodies before him.

After Nursey’s line rang out, they all fell back, allowing Lardo to take her place up front to introduce them, the Six Merry Murderesses of the Crook County Jail. Her part finished, she dropped into the chair she’d dragged along with her and slumped. One arm slung over the back and legs spread wide, she was a nonchalant backdrop of masculinity as Dex and the rest of the team moved forward again, continuing their mantra with increasing vigor.

As the song played on, Dex fell into its rhythm, the choreography he’d practiced flowing easily as muscle-memory took over and his mind relaxed. All previous tension was broken by the shifting of his weight from one leg to the next, the fluid pull of muscle and bone as his body swayed, a dance that fed on the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He felt the sweat on his brow and the tightness in his chest and the smile threatening at his lips, but had no time to process any of it. Every emotion was caught up in the movement and the words and the crystal clear space of absolute concentration.

It was a high Dex rode until suddenly he was on his knees, the tune playing out the last of its notes as he whispered one last “Pop” to the audience. Applause washed over them as he panted, lungs trying to keep up with his racing heart. This time, he couldn’t help his grin, wide and full of teeth as the endorphins kicked in. 

_Holy shit_ , Dex marveled. _I did it_. 

He looked over and saw the same feelings of joy and pride on his teammates’ faces as they stared out at the crowed.

“ _We_ did it,” he breathed, stupid and giddy and shaking as he got up and jumped into the impromptu celly Holster had started.

“Okay boys,” Deedee Diamond cut in as she ascended the stairs. “I’m never one to break up a pile of men in front of me, but you’re going to have to vacate the stage.”

“Aw, Deedee darling, can’t you just let them have their moment? It’s so… touching,” Buxom Cummins purred. “And you know how I feel about touching.”

“Yes, I do. And so does every man in the back room of Mine Shaft.” 

Bitty snorted and Ransom laughed outright. Buxom glared at Deedee, then sighed dramatically before looking over at them. "Well, you boys may be good on the ice, but come visit Coach Buxom after the show and we'll practice a little tonsil hockey." She puckered her lips and blew a kiss. 

Holster jumped to catch it before winking at her and waving coyly. It earned him a smack on the ass as they clamored off stage, everyone laughing at the yelp Buxom Cummin’s long nails elicited from Holster.

“That was ‘swawesome!” Ransom exclaimed before they’d all even made it into the changing room. Dex held the curtain open for Lardo and she nodded at him before slipping in. 

“Great job, boys. And Lardo,” Holster added a moment later as she began undressing, her stylish bob falling from the hat she doffed. “I always forget you’re not a dude sometimes.”

“Likewise,” she chirped back without missing a beat and Dex chuckled, the sound low and easy as an astonishing sense of normalcy began settling over him. 

He couldn’t believe he’d gone up on stage—in drag, no less—and performed for the whole school. Harder still was the excitement it had all brought, the euphoria close to that which he felt on the ice. And now here he was, just moments later, shucking his costume as life drifted back down to an even keel. A buzz still lingered beneath his skin, warm and tingling and comfortable, but it was nothing compared to what he’d felt on stage. Dex wondered at the rush of it all, the quick ebb and flow of emotion, surprised by how far removed he felt now in his jeans and tee-shirt from the person he’d been just minutes ago.

One of the GSA crew knocked outside the curtain before popping their head into the room. “Next act’ll be back in about two minutes.” She looked a little harried, but smiled at them all the same. “Oh, and nice job up there! I think yours is going to be the one to beat tonight.” With that, she disappeared again and everyone doubled-down on their efforts of wiping off makeup and getting back into plain clothes.

Soon they were pushing back out into the open again, leaving behind the stage and their performance to join the rest of the crowd. Shitty and Jack were waiting for them near the back, two rows of seats saved with a Falconer’s jacket and Shitty’s old SMH hoodie draped over their backs.

“Hey, Dex!” Chowder cried softly, bumping into him playfully as they made their way down the side aisle. “I told you! We were amazing! Everyone loved it!”

“Yeah,” Dex laughed, amused by Chowder’s enthusiasm. “I think we did pretty good out there.”

“More importantly, though,” Chowder continued, his voice now tempered with an earnest attention. “Did you have fun?”

“I did.” 

“‘Swaesome.”

The smile on Chowder’s face was more blinding that any of the stage lights had been, his simple acceptance of Dex’s admission a relief.

“Hey boys!” Shitty said in as quiet a voice as his excitement could manage. “Get ‘yer jailbird asses over here!”

“Shut up, Shits,” Lardo admonished, cuffing him on the arm as she took the seat next to him. “You’re ruining the show for everyone.”

“Pshh. I just watched you get murdered six times, I ain’t afraid of you.” 

Lardo threw Shitty such a piercing glare that Dex was glad Chowder sat next to her rather than himself. 

“Okay. Nevermind. I am afraid of you.”

“And everything was right with the world,” Ransom chirped.

“Thanks again for coming out, guys,” Holster said as they all settled in to watch the show. 

“You sure it’s not any of _you_ who’re coming out tonight?” Shitty snickered.

“This’s been fun,” Jack said, ignoring Shitty’s joke. “I’m glad we could make it. You all… uh… You all looked great up there.” He shifted closer to Bitty, obviously flustered.

“Oh, honey.” Bitty laid a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We can keep the costume.”

Ransom and Holster snorted and Jack blushed deep enough to be seen in the low light.

“Get it, Bits.”

“Y’all _do_ realize where Jack’s staying tonight,” Bitty countered with a self-satisfied smile. Ransom shrugged.

“The attic’s basically soundproof. Have fun kids.”

“Are you all going to keep talking or can we watch the rest of the show?” Dex complained.

“Suddenly interested in drag, Dex?” Holster prodded.

“Well, it _is_ what we’re here for, isn’t it?” Dex replied, slightly agitated. He actually _was_ interested in the other acts, and as amusing as his friends’ banter was, the show was only for the night whereas their sass would last a lifetime.

“Alright, alright,” Ransom’s authoritative voice drew immediate silence from them all. “Save the chirps for later.”

“Nice job, captain,” Holster whispered.

“Thanks, captain.” They shared a fist-bump and Dex rolled his eyes, turning back around to face the stage.

Buxom Cummins and Deedee Diamond were again taking their places front and center as the girl’s volleyball team retreated, a gaggle of smiles and smudged facial hair. Dex glanced at Chowder and realized why he’d stayed out of the previous conversation: his eyes were glued on Farmer, hands clapping wildly as his braces flashed through an endearingly dopey grin. Dex was sad he’d missed whatever number they’d performed to, but he was sure he’d be hearing enough about it for the next month to make it seem as if he hadn’t.

“Are you enjoying the night so far?” Buxom’s voice rang out clear into the air. Everyone hollered and clapped, and someone shouted out, “I love you Buxom Cummins!” over the noise. “Oh my. Well I love you too, darling. Unless you have tits. Then we’ll have to renegotiate.” 

“Stop flirting with the audience,” Deedee insisted. “Just announce who’s next so we can get your shameless ass off this stage.”

“Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful and get all the young men excited.” One of the frat guys sitting up front whistled and Buxom preened under the attention.

“Alright, alright,” Buxom conceded when Deedee gave her an overly-exasperated look, hands on her hips and Barbie-pink lips turned down in a sneer. “Everyone knows you never keep a lady waiting. No, not you, ‘Dee. I meant our next performer, the lovely miss Ray-Chill Valentine!”

“See,” Bitty hissed at Ransom and Holster. “I told you we should have given ourselves drag names!”

Ransom sniped something back about Bitty’s inability to name anything other than baked goods as Ray-Chill made her way on stage. 

There wasn’t much to make out yet—other than that she was tall—as she hid most of herself under a loose silk robe, her head covered by its large hood. Dex watched her long legs eat up the length of the stage, strong calves the only thing visible where the black fabric cut off just below the knee. They stood out, muscles made hard and prominent by the stilettos her feet disappeared into, and Dex was amused with her choice of footwear; he’d never seen a sneaker with a heel before. But the black shoes with pink accents, heel and sole, laces and patented Nike swoosh, matched the athleticism of her legs and Dex wondered what the rest of her outfit looked like.

She stopped at center stage, turned her back to the audience, and stood, head tilted forward and arms held loose at her side, waiting for the music to begin.

A deep, electronic beat pulsed from the speakers, the bass heavy as the music seemed to roll throughout the room. Dex immediately felt like he was on the dancefloor of a club, the kind where sticky heat lingered in the air as bodies pressed together en masse, heaving to the pulse of the notes vibrating through the floor. The image was only strengthened a few moments later when a woman’s voice moaned, low and sultry, and Ray-Chill rolled the robe seductively off her left shoulder. 

The rhythm continued, a resonant throb punctuated by the breathy female sighs that signaled Ray-Chill’s next movement; first her right shoulder, then the hood as she shrugged and the whole thing fell halfway down her body, catching in the crooks of her bent elbows to hang enticingly above the curve of her ass. On the final gasp, she lifted her head and turned in one fluid motion, allowing the robe to slip off and pool at her feet.

 _Nursey_.

It was Nursey up on stage, now lip-synching to lyrics Dex missed completely as he stared at his friend in utter shock. 

He’d said nothing, to any of them, about doing a solo number. Hadn’t even hinted. Nursey’d gone along with the group thing readily enough, but had never shown any further interest or inclination when it came to drag. Though Dex had to concede Nursey’s costume was far from the normal drag scene… 

He wasn’t wearing a wig and his clothes were nothing more than a black compression tee and shorts, tight and revealing, showcasing his broad shoulders, solid chest, and muscled thighs. The minimal makeup Nursey had applied only helped to highlight his already strong features, making his dark lashes prominent and his bright, deep-set eyes pop. Gold body glitter enhanced his mocha skin, the bone and muscle structure of his cheeks and neck standing out under the shimmering lights. One might have called the look androgynous, but Dex was so hyper aware of every masculine feature Nursey possessed that he… 

_What the hell_ … Dex blinked, trying to pull himself out of his own rapidly devolving thoughts.

“ _You let your body talk_ ,” the song reverberated in Dex’s ears, the male voice coming out over the loudspeakers strangely fitting for this drag performance. It was low, gravelly, and further emphasized every absurdly masculine aspect of Nursey’s body. Dex groaned.

“ _It’s all part of the scheme. And the way you walk, haunts my dreams_.”

Nursey stalked forward, slow and deliberate, in a way Dex could only describe as provocative. He swallowed what little saliva was left in his parched mouth.

“ _I’m here to play your game_ ,” Nursey continued, rolling his body with the moans that again accentuated the erotic cadence of the song. Each motion caused ripples of muscle to move under taut fabric and Dex watched, entranced.

“ _You’re such a pretty thing. I try to stand my ground but it’s hard, so **hard** to leave you alone_.”

Nursey’s eyes fluttered with the force of the lyrics before opening wide in a smoldering gaze, and it was then that Dex realized Nursey was watching him, had had his eyes on him since the very beginning. His cheeks burned, too embarrassed to look around and see confirmation in the looks of those around him. 

Not that he could look away if he tried.

“ _I gave you all my money; now show me to the honey, baby._ ” Nursey beckoned with a crooked finger and dipped into a squat, knees butterflying out in the perfect picture of athletic seduction.

“ _Legs as white as sugar, candy on the window sill._ ” Nursey’s tongue darted out to run across his lips as if he could taste the line, and Dex imagined his own legs the subject of such ministrations. A small shiver ran down his spine and Dex suppressed the urge to grind up in his seat.

“ _It’s so easy you see_ ,” Nursey sang, now at the edge of the stage and making like he was about to step over an invisible threshold. He stared down over the lip as if the floor below was the bottom of a chasm, a fathomless and impenetrable deep that was rendered insignificant the moment he looked back up at Dex and grinned, a carnal flashing of teeth before walking over the edge.

“ _To cross the fine line in front of me_.”

Nursey strode up the center aisle, hips swaying as he mouthed along to the female voice again, strings of French Dex couldn’t understand but thought sounded just as filthy as the rest of the song.

About halfway up the aisle, he looked down at a girl in an end seat and held out his hand inquiringly. When she giggled and nodded, Nursey stepped forward and grabbed the back of her chair, bracketing her head with his corded arms and began to dance. His movement was unhurried, seductive in the curve of his spine and the languid way he slithered into her lap. 

Through every motion he kept his eyes trained on Dex, the heat burning behind them fierce and exhilarating. Despite Dex being the obvious subject of Nursey’s attention, the display ignited a small inferno of jealousy in the corner of Dex’s heart and he dug his fingers deep into the meat of his leg, the sharp pain his nails elicited a reminder that he had nothing yet to be jealous of.

After one more suggestive sway, Nursey left the girl practically boneless and walked into the aisle. Facing the stage, he dropped to his knees and arched his back high, forming a bow with his body as his arms stretched out long across the ground behind him, feet tucked underneath in a sensual show of his flexibility. Even upside-down on the floor he found Dex again, singing the next lines as he thrust his hips rhythmically into the air,

“ _It’s music when you scream my name, tell me that you feel the same_.”

 _Fuck_. Dex bit his lip and wished he could run and hide, wished he could just be alone somewhere with Nursey. He felt the stares of everyone around him, knew he wouldn’t be able to show his face on campus without the burn of humiliation staining his cheeks. Yet none of that mattered now, in the face of his current arousal, the rush of blood that burned hot and low and unbridled in his veins. The intoxicating display Dex knew, instinctively, was for him and him alone.

 _I swear to god, if he doesn’t know what he’s doing to me right now_ … 

Nursey rolled and pulled himself back up, walking backwards toward the front and gesturing to the crowd as he continued to sing.

Having reached the stage again, Nursey sat on the edge and seemed to lose himself to the beat, eyes closing and head lolling back as his body undulated to the extended musical section. His arms rose above his head, wrists twirling, to form a column of flesh that framed his neck, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gasped for air.

“ _You look good_ ,” the lyrics began again and Nursey leaned forward, his hands weaving their way down to his thighs as he spread them wide to the next verse of the song. 

“ _Now let the devil inside_.” He trailed his fingers to his knees, lighting a path down exposed skin as his lips parted in ecstasy.

“ _It feels good. And there’s nothing to hide_.” 

Nursey mouthed the line, closing his legs coyly and crossing them at the ankles before sitting up straight, expression suddenly serious as he looked out over the audience, eyes boring into Dex with an inescapable intensity. 

The song played out, the words repeating over and over, and Nursey whispered them all, his body completely still save for his lips, though the subtle moment was somehow no less provocative than the rest of his performance.

“ _It’s so easy you see, to cross the fine line in front of me_ ,

 _It’s so easy to see_.”

With a final gasp, loud and passionate and satisfied, the song ended and Nursey fell back on the stage as if he, himself, was spent. 

For a moment the room was silent, the shuffle of bodies in chairs and the odd foot scuffing the polished floor oppressively loud in Dex’s ears before everyone erupted in wild applause and he was drowning in the din of cheers and howls and even a few wolf whistles. Dex bristled at the brazen shout of “nice legs, baby!” as Nursey got up and hurried off stage, wrapped tightly in the robe he’d retrieved from the floor. He didn’t look up, even as Buxom Cummins and Deedee Diamond joined him, and quickly slipped past their attempts to congratulate him.

“Dex!” 

Chowder’s earnest voice startled him and Dex turned, vaguely aware that he must have been out of it, eyes staring blindly ahead, mind registering little else than his own disbelief and the rapid beating of his own heart. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, brow knit with concern.

“What?” Dex managed after a moment.

“ _Dex_ ,” Chowder implored.

“C, I…” he trailed off, unable to supply any one of the numerous emotions that currently rocked the pit of his stomach.

“Ho-ly fuck,” Holster breathed from his seat behind Dex. “That was way hotter than it has any right to be. New jeans definitely lost their virginity tonight.”

A sudden surge of fury coursed through Dex and he clenched his fists in an attempt to keep them off his unwitting captain. 

“ _Bro_ ,” Ransom hissed, slapping Holster with a solid crack. Dex’s mouth twitched in satisfaction.

“…like that before,” Buxom Cummins said as her voice caught Dex’s attention. “Are we sure these are chickens, ‘Dee, because I swear I just saw some cock on stage.” 

“All I know is right now, I’ve got a craving for some dark meat, honey,” Deedee growled.

“I gotta go,” Dex blurted, suddenly so restless he felt like he was vibrating. The energy in the room and the crass jokes along with the simmering state of arousal and confusion and embarrassment he found himself in were all too much to handle and he needed out, needed to leave and get some air and… 

_Nursey_.

Dex needed to find Nursey.

If any of his friends said anything to him as he pushed past them, Dex didn’t hear it, so intent on making it to the dressing room before Nursey could escape. Somehow, Dex knew Nursey wouldn’t be sticking around, wouldn’t be going back to the join everyone for the rest of the show. His hasty escape from the stage, the way he’d kept his head low and tucked himself protectively in the thin scrap of black silk, when all through his performance he’d held himself high and defiant, staring at Dex like something _lived_ in the distance between them… Dex didn’t know what it all meant, exactly, but he had enough of an idea and a grasp on Nursey’s own personality to tell him that Nursey would be gone by the time he got there.

“Nursey,” he gasped at the girl who’d directed them before, a bit out of breath though the trip hadn’t been far. She looked at him funny and he corrected himself. “Derek Nurse. Uh, Ray-Chill Valentine. Where did he go?”

“Oh,” she said with understanding. “I’m not sure. He was in and out so fast, I didn’t really see where he went. I’ve got so many acts to keep track of and actually…” She glanced down at her clipboard, then up at the remaining acts, all waiting patiently where Dex had been only a half hour before. 

“Sorry,” Dex apologized, realizing he was interrupting the flurry of behind-the-scenes work that kept the show running. She smiled as he stepped out of her way.

“It’s okay,” she replied and set off toward the group of students. “But,” she hesitated, turning back around. “If he didn’t go out into the audience, there’s only one other exit. Over there.” She pointed to a door currently hiding behind some potted plants that had been pushed aside for the evening and the sound equipment.

“Thanks.”

“Good luck,” she winked at him before bustling away and Dex wished the embarrassment didn’t come so easily.

 _Fucking Nursey_ , he thought, rushing for the door. _When I find you, I’ll_ …

The cool April air hit him square in the face as Dex burst through the door. He hadn’t realized how warm the room had gotten, how hot his own face felt, until the dark night washed over him. Dex took in a deep breath, the cold sting in his nostrils momentarily clearing his mind. 

His respite was brief, however, the agency with which his nerves compelled him to move consuming him, and Dex began running in the direction of the quad.

He rounded the corner of the building, ready to hoof it across the damp lawn all the way to the dorms, then pulled up short.

Nursey stood not ten feet away, back pressed to the red brick of the wall and face tilted toward the stars, eyes closed. His breathing was more ragged than Dex’s, coming out in little puffs of white between parted lips. 

“Nursey,” Dex gasped, and Nursey’s head snapped up, gaze landing on Dex as he stepped forward. Nursey remained frozen and Dex saw the color drain from his face, the previously alluring golden powder now disconcerting on ashen cheeks.

“Dex,” was all Nursey managed, reticent. 

They stared at each other, Nursey’s eyes wide and Dex’s mind so full it was empty. Whatever words he thought would come to him failed, aborting themselves before he even had a chance to process them. The longest minute of Dex’s life stretched between them, their stillness uncomfortable and the silence crushing.

“What the fuck was that?” he finally blurted. Nursey winced and Dex cursed himself.

“What was what?” Nursey asked in a poor attempt at feigning ignorance.

“ _That_.” Dex pointed to the building behind him, indicating the faint throb of music audible through the walls. “You just gyrated in my general direction for six minutes!” Nursey snorted before shaking his head and burying it in his hands.

“I dunno, dude.”

“You ‘ _don’t know_ ’?” Dex was trying to stay calm, to keep his voice low and even, the accusations and suppositions inside, so as not to scare Nursey off. He didn’t think it was working.

“Of course I know,” Nursey snapped. “I’m pretty sure you do, too,” he murmured. 

Dex sighed and steeled himself. “There’s no way what I’m thinking is what actually happened.”

“And why is that?”

“Because in no universe does Derek Nurse like me,” Dex responded flatly. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Nursey scoffed, incredulous.

“And why would I,” Dex continued, hurt and confused by Nursey’s reaction. “Why would I believe such a thing? That the complete asshole of a guy who used to fight with me tooth and nail now possibly watches me too much and sometimes leans in too close and says stupid shit that’s probably supposed to impress me. That he would want me. Me! It was easier to call you smug, chalk it up to your obnoxious behavior, than to admit that the first guy to ever look at me like that would be _you_.”

Dex’s chest heaved, his heart heavy with the magnitude of his confession, with everything he had never allowed himself to think, to believe, to even _realize_. It was a revelation, acknowledged and spilled in the heat of the moment, and there was nothing Dex could do to take it back. He knew now, deep in his bones, that this was and had been some inescapable thing he hadn’t even known he’d been running from. This shame and fear and _desire_.

“There’s nothing fucking special about _me_ ,” Nursey answered, voice clipped. “I just wanted you to notice me for once.”

“ _Notice you?_ Jesus Christ, Nursey, _everyone_ notices you.”

“I’m not interested in everyone.”

Nursey looked at him and his eyes were just so _green_. So brilliantly bright it was overwhelming and Dex felt it like a punch, his lungs collapsing under the weight of them.

“Well it’s not like there’s anything special about me, either,” Dex said, still unable to accept the possibility. “Not compared to Derek Nurse.”

“Stop,” Nursey cut in, hot and indignant. “Stop calling me ‘Derek Nurse’, like it’s some _thing_ , some brand that makes me better than you.” Nursey glared at him, eyes livid, and something burst in Dex’s chest.

“I was Derek Nurse at Andover, the perfect, pristine athlete who was going somewhere. Who had everything figured out because you don’t come from money and a good family and not know what you’re doing with your fucking life.”

“Derek Nurse, who didn’t get to figure out who he really was, because he already knew. He had friends who were loud and obnoxious and probably didn’t care about him any more than the next idiot, friends who did stupid shit and got away with it because everyone knew they were still pulling the A’s they needed to not end up a family disappointment. 

“Derek Nurse, who knew hockey wasn’t a future, wasn’t anything you got to follow through on. It was fun, a way to keep in shape. Sports and masculine camaraderie were all just part of the experience, what it was to be young, rich, part of the boy’s club. Generations of tradition. After that, you moved on to college and got a respectable degree so you could put on a suit every day and drive to your new shiny office in a chrome-plated high-rise.

“All those boys at Andover, the shy ones and the outgoing ones and the colossal douche canoes, they all knew the end-game. And so did I.”

Nursey gulped in a shuddering breath and continued.

“But I came to Samwell instead. I picked English as my major. I don’t have a fucking life plan. All I know is that I love poetry and fiction written by not-old-dead-white-men and Jane Austen because she’s witty as hell and no one appreciates her vicious sarcastic portrayals of love and marriage and oppressive societal expectations. I came to Samwell to finally just be Derek and I ended up Nursey. 

“I like being Nursey. I like being taken for _who_ I am and not _what_ I am. And Jesus fucking Christ, I like _you_ , Dex. I like that you fight with me, that you don’t let me get away with shit. You challenge me constantly and we don’t always see eye-to-eye but that doesn’t matter. I can be whoever the hell I want to be and at the end of the day you expect nothing from me but mutual respect.

“So please,” he begged. “I just want to be Nursey.”

Dex stared, more lost for words than ever. After such an outpouring, how was anyone expected to respond? But he owed Nursey more than silence, was obligated to answer the tears so gallantly held back from falling; Nursey’s kohl liner was smudged and the smoky effect only lent to his current appearance of vulnerability.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Sorry for what?”

“I don’t know. Everything? That was a lot of shit you just laid out. And I… I’m sorry for making you feel like that.”

“Dude, you are the opposite of every problem I just said.”

“Other than the putting you on a pedestal thing,” Dex pointed out.

“Heh,” Nursey snorted, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah. Don’t do that again, huh?”

“I can do that,” Dex said sincerely.

Some of the tension eased in the silence that followed and Dex felt his nerves thrum with the situation, at what might come next, what Nursey might say. What _he_ should say. After a moment, Nursey spoke again.

“I suppose I need to apologize too.”

“What for?” Dex asked, genuinely wondering. Nursey sighed, contrite.

“I know you don’t like it when you feel like you have no control, or like you don’t have a choice. And you definitely don’t like being put on the spot. Which is basically what I just did, dancing like that for you…” Nursey’s voice trailed off, embarrassed.

Dex flushed. The thought of Nursey dancing _for_ him was just… too much.

“There was no way anyone in that room could have misconstrued my meaning, even _you_. Which was kind of the whole point, really. So, I’m sorry I did that to you. I just, couldn’t think of any other way,” Nursey finished lamely. 

It was Dex’s turn to scoff. “Jesus, Nursey, I thought you were supposed to be a poet or something. Use your goddamn _words_ ,” Dex grinned, the chirp natural and comforting after so much revelation.

“I’m sorry,” Nursey said, voice weak and repentant. 

“I know.”

“No. For the other week at the Haus.” Dex didn’t quite know which time he meant, and his brief silence was all Nursey needed to continue. “When we were still planning for the show and I called you chicken-shit.”

“You already apologized for that.”

“Not really. Not fully. I couldn’t without saying… without telling you how I felt.” Nursey ran his fingers through his hair and fisted it, pulling tight against his scalp in such a strong grip his knuckles went white. 

“I just, exploded at you. There was no reason for it but I was just so frustrated. Frustrated at this whole thing. This _crush_ I’ve had on a guy who, for all intents and purposes, is everything I always thought I didn’t want. But you’re so much more than that and those little bits that still got in the way just made it so much worse. That feeling in the back of my mind that even though you love Bitty and are totally cool with him and Jack, that you’ve moved on from a lot of the shit you grew up with, there was still no way you could _love_ me. And then the thought of having to live with you next year, when you were so upset about it, so defiant…” Nursey’s voice trailed off as his chin dipped low. “I snapped. I’m so sorry,” he finished softly.

“Hey,” Dex whispered, moving in closer. “You’ve apologized enough tonight.” 

Nursey looked up at him and Dex’s heart stammered. Such an easy distance lay between them, mere feet coverable in an instant with a step and an outstretched hand, and Dex was taken aback by the need to be even closer, in Nursey’s space, wrapped around him like the coat he so desperately needed. Nursey shivered in the frigid air, bare arms goose-pimpled and stiff. 

“You look cold,” Dex observed, reigning in the recently discovered desire that curled deep within him. They deserved to take this slow, feeling out the moments as they fell into place, piece by aching piece. There would be time for everything; Dex would make sure of it.

“A bit, I guess,” Nursey laughed, jittery.

“Can I,” Dex stuttered, unexpectedly nervous. “Can I hold you?” 

Nursey’s eyes went wide. “Hold me?”

“It’d keep you warm,” Dex joked, cocking a lopsided grin to hide his unease. Nursey didn’t respond and Dex knew he had to say something, to let Nursey know what he was feeling. Worry warred with his newfound lust as Dex tried to find the right words.

“I wanna hold you,” he said, Nursey’s steady reception of the bold statement bolstering his confidence. “Touch you, Nursey. I don’t think I’ve ever actually thought about it before, but fuck. After everything you’ve said. What you _did_ tonight? I want you.” Nursey’s lips parted in disbelief and Dex groaned, hot and bothered again by just how _appealing_ every aspect of him was.

“Shit,” Nursey breathed, obviously affected by Dex’s vocalization. “Are you serious?” he ventured, too strung out on long-repressed desire to hold back the hope cracking his voice.

“Yes.”

“Dex,” Nursey whined through gritted teeth. 

Spurred forward with the feeling of the moment, the air positively magnetic between them, they moved as one, finding each other in the middle with a tangle of arms and hands and legs. Nursey held Dex’s head in his hands, their equal heights leaving their eye contact even and fierce, as Dex looped his arms low over Nursey’s muscular back.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Poindexter,” he rasped. 

Dex gripped the tight fabric under his fingers, urging him on. “If you don’t, I will.”

Nursey leaned forward, his broad nose brushing Dex’s as he tilted, angling his head to press their lips together. Dex’s eyes slid closed, his mind and body overwhelmed with emotion and sensation and _Nursey_. Nursey’s cool lips over his own, soft and sweet, still slightly tacky from the lipgloss he’d worn for his performance. Nursey’s hand moving from his cheek to the nape of his neck, ruffling his short hair with blunt nails before cradling Dex with his fingers. Nursey’s tongue, inquisitive now that they’d met, running lightly over his lower lip. Dex moaned and returned the favor.

Nursey allowed Dex to slip past his lips, tongues meeting in a sloppy exchange behind Nursey’s teeth. Dex almost wished he had height on him, making it easier to take over. But the give and take felt so good, so natural to their dynamic, that he couldn’t complain and let himself revel in the feeling of Nursey’s surrender.

Nursey dropped his other hand to Dex’s chest, brushing over a nipple and Dex squirmed, his surprised yelp caught between their hot mouths. Nursey grinned against him, clearly amused by Dex’s newfound sensitivity, so Dex retaliated, sweeping his hand down to squeeze Nursey’s ass in a grip meant to be minded. Nursey gasped, glutes tightening under Dex’s grasp as he arched into him. 

Something deep within Dex rumbled, born of the hard press of Nursey’s cock against his thigh with the movement, and he grabbed Nursey’s waist to pull him inexorably closer. Nursey dragged his hips once along the length of Dex’s leg before shuddering to a stop, body tense with the effort to hold himself still.

“Dex,” he breathed, dragging his lips away. “Dex, wait.” Dex caught Nursey’s eyes in the dim light, flashing with urgency. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“It’s okay,” Dex said, eager to assuage Nursey’s concern. “I’ve fooled around before.”

“What?”

“With a guy, I mean,” Dex clarified. Nursey looked at him, visibly torn between incredulous and hungry, and Dex smirked. “After the last kegster.”

“ _Seriously_? Is that where you went when you disappeared?”

“You were watching me?” Dex wondered and Nursey chuckled.

“Yeah.” Against all logic, Dex’s cheeks burned again, still not accustomed to the thought that Nursey had had a thing for him for so long.

“It wasn’t much,” Dex continued shyly, annoyed that he should still feel self-conscious about admitting such a thing. “Just a handjob back in his room. I wanted out from the, how did you put it? ‘Backwoods, heteronormative bullshit’?” 

Nursey groaned and Dex pulled him close, their bodies having drifted during the conversation.

“I still forgive you.”

“But you’re never gonna let me live it down.”

“Nope,” Dex grinned into Nursey’s neck. “And for the record, I grew up by the ocean.”

“Is that really relevant?”

“It is when you talk about me like I’m some Stephen King Monster-From-Maine,” Dex chirped.

“Of course Stephen King would be your literary point of reference,” Nursey grumbled. 

"Well then," Dex said as he leaned forward, ghosting his lips over the shell of Nursey’s ear.

“Teach me.”

  


~*~

Monday morning saw Dex making his way through Lake Quad, his programming class as always too early for anyone to be both awake and sane. Bleary-eyed students shuffled along footpaths, downing coffee from Annie’s and hasty breakfasts snagged from the Caf.

Normally quiet, the morning air was filled with the low chatter of his fellow Wellies, surreptitious glances thrown Dex’s way as blushes were hidden behind hands and books, the odd snigger making it to his ears and turning them bright red. 

Soon Nursey was in view, bright eyes shining where he stood past the hedge, waiting for Dex. As he approached, Nursey came out to meet him on the walk, slipping his hand into Dex’s. Someone catcalled from across the grass.

All Dex could do was smile. 

  


~*~

**Author's Note:**

> \-- **Edit:** Yay! I finally finished the epilogue for this! (That actually turned into TWO epilogues. oops) [Epilogue 1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11699310) [Epilogue 2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11702163)
> 
> \--This set-up is based off of the drag shows my university's GSA would put on every year. We would alternate between bringing in local professional drag performers (Darcelle XV!!!) and having a student drag show. I just decided to combine the two together for this story.
> 
> \--The song Nursey danced to is [Syteme de Sexe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ws_Llfrb9tM) by Julien K.
> 
> \--Though Systeme de Sexe was what I planned to use from the beginning, I also considered for a time Sia's [Move Your Body](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vxrSAwtdtuQ) and for a second laughed at the thought of using [Sweet Design](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aqX4cnsol1A).
> 
> \--So, sometimes (read: OFTEN) I write myself notes on the bottom of the doc of reactions I'm having to my work as I'm writing. This is one of them: I DIDN’T THINK I WAS GOING TO WRITE SO MUCH CHOWDER. I MEAN, I LOVE HIM, HE IS THE MOST CINNAMON OF ALL CINNAMON ROLLS TO EVER EXIST. BUT I SERIOUSLY DON’T REALLY READ MUCH FIC THAT COULD BE TAGGED UNDER “the frogs” AND I NEVER THOUGHT I’D EVER BE WRITING SOMETHING THAT REALLY KIND OF INCLUDED THE THREE OF THEM. BUT THEN A LITTLE CHOWDER BECAME MORE CHOWDER BECAME DEX AND CHOWDER BEING PAL-SY AND HAVING LITTLE HEART-TO-HEARTS AND I COULDN’T STOP AND IT JUST SPIRALED INTO THIS. I BLAME THE FACT THAT THIS WAS LITERALLY JUST SUPPOSED TO BE A QUICK FIC ABOUT NURSEY STRUTTING AROUND ON STAGE AND WAGGING HIS BUTT AT DEX AND IT QUICKLY SPIRALED INTO THIS THING AND SUDDENLY I HAD OVER 10 PAGES OF SETUP AND WHAT THE HELL CHOWDER NEEDED IN ON THIS. SO HERE HAVE SOME UNEXPECTED CHOWDER I LOVE IT THANK YOU GOOD NIGHT.
> 
> \--Dex’s ringtone for Chowder is [The Ballad of Sharknado](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0fCaU6bV3PI) (which I did NOT know was a thing!!!)
> 
> \--Basically anything that has to do with sequins is because of Val. Thank you a million times over. <3
> 
> \--Nursey’s shoes <3: [here](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/d0/78/06/d07806e1a926c29efc91e425420a28f3.jpg)


End file.
